


Naked Male Insecurity

by rebel_diamond



Series: Love on Ice [7]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, I'm turning into the Deanna Raybourn of fanfic writers, When are these two gonna kiss already!?!?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 05:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14867249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebel_diamond/pseuds/rebel_diamond
Summary: Belle and Gaston grow closer. Gold has a reasonable and mature reaction. Ha! Not.Part of the Love on Ice series. A series of stories in which disgraced ex-pairs figure skater Gold is hired to coach ice princess Belle and her partner Gaston to the Olympics. If Gold and Belle don’t kill each other first.





	Naked Male Insecurity

Usually they arrived to the rink separately. Belle preferred to work out in the morning before practice. Gaston would lift in the evenings. They’d meet on the ice, then go their separate ways. The cavalry of trainers, nutritionists, physical therapists, and now a sports therapist, kept them busy. But today Gaston entered with his bag clutched in one arm and Belle at his other. They were mid-conversation.    
  
“You jumped right out of your seat,” Gaston guffawed.     
  
“I thought it was going to be a comedy!” she exclaimed through laughter. She bumped into his shoulder, seemingly on purpose.      
  
“It was!” he insisted. “Did you even see the movie at all? I think you were hiding your face in my shoulder the entire time!”   
  
Gold watched them advance toward the ice. Well, didn’t they appear chummy. The sports therapist was working out then. It sounded like they’d gone on a little date over the weekend. Gold couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to a movie theater. Probably when Neal was a boy, after he and Milah had split up. The idea of spending the afternoon in a dark, cool movie theater appealed to him. He pictured Belle’s hair cascading over his shoulder, where she’d rest her head after the lights went down. He blinked hard to rid himself of the unwelcome image.      
  
Across the rink with Gaston, Belle threw her head back and cackled. They sat down on one of the benches side-by-side, lacing up their skates. Gold couldn’t hear them anymore, but Gaston leaned down and murmured something to Belle. Then they leaned against each other for support when they both broke into fits of giggles. Her eyes screwed shut, she was laughing so hard. She looked beautiful and carefree and he’d never seen her like that before.     
  
They were still smiling at each other and chatting when they drifted out to center ice.     
  
“Are you ready to get to work?” Gold barked from the sidelines, arms folded.   
  
They flinched. “Yes, Mr. Gold,” they recited, chastened but still struggling to hide their mirth.   
  
Their culpability did nothing to satisfy him. Suddenly he was thrust into the role of the disapproving teacher to two kids who we  having a good time. The part bothered him.   
  
As they slid into their short program their body language continued to be at ease with each other. Belle kept grinning while she skated. It was the most relaxed on the ice she’d ever been. She was know in the skating community for her poise. But now the gracefulness of a mature woman radiated throughout her performance. It was a confidence he hadn’t known she possessed. For the first time, she didn’t look over at him every ten seconds to see if he approved of her display. She just skated. The best he’d ever seen her.    
  
Apparently, it was bonding with that nob that had done it.   
  
He concentrated on Gaston, seemingly responsible for Belle’s newfound belief in herself. Why shouldn’t she be fearless with such virile competence on the ice with her? Wasn’t that the whole point of this exercise? Gaston was a towering, stable young man. His glistening smile would blind the judges as he rotated by. His inoffensiveness would make them swoon.   
  
The bastard.

He scrutinized them as Gaston entwined himself with Belle, twirling her effortlessly. Gold’s fingers flexed, mimicking Gaston’s hold. Up to now, Gold had been able to examine them with passive disinterest. He could be completely objective on their performance. He wasn’t a skater anymore, he could completely remove himself from the process. Now, his muscle memory kicked in. Gaston threw and caught Belle on the split triple twist. Gold's arms twitched, mimicking a move he once was able to do with his eyes closed.    
  
“LeGueme!” he shouted across the ice before he even realized he was going to say something. His mind scrambled for a follow-up. “How many times do I have to tell you to put your arms down before you catch her!”   
  
Gaston balked as they transitioned into the step sequence. “I did,” his low baritone echoed back to him.     
  
He probably had. Honestly, Gold hadn’t been paying attention.   
  
Belle shot Gold a disapproving look as they whisked by him. He glared at her back.   
  
Their side-by-side triple toes were cleanly done. There was no hesitation going into the triple loop and Belle nailed the landing.   
  
It was a good program, he admitted. It was a classic presentation that demonstrated their athleticism without being overly saccharine. The routine was elevated this time because of the additional eye contact they made. They were both more lithe this run-through than ever before and they’d never been more in sync with one another.     
  
Christ, when he sent them to therapy he didn’t meant for them to sleep with each other.   
  
Gaston picked Belle up with ease. He held her by the hip, her arm braced on his shoulder. He spun while she extended and grabbed her skate in a flawless star lift. He switched hands mid-rotation and they executed a one-handed exit. He lowered her to the ice smoothly with one arm.   

 _I used to be able to do that_ , Gold thought cynically. He could have skated circles around Gaston, in his day. Sure, Gaston had unblemished power. But he was too big to get the height and number of rotations on individual jumps that Gold once did. He stopped thought spiral from descending any further. How pathetic he sounded. He was turning into one of those embittered old men who worshiped his own past. He might have well have stayed hunched in his bar stool in Scotland.

They whipped across the ice, picking up speed. The tiniest movement from one brought a slight adjustment from the other. They spoke telepathically like only the best skating partners could. He could see Belle’s grin even from where he stood. _You’ll never make her smile like that_ , he admonished himself coldly. _You’ll never be able to throw her. You’ll never be able to keep up with her._

Gaston pirouetted into the pivot position, one toe anchored in the ice. Belle arched back sensually and they spun, swooping into a death spiral.

“LeGueme, lock that grip! If you let her go, you’ll hurt her!” Again, he hadn’t planned the critique until it was already out of his mouth.  

Coming out of the spiral, they both clearly stiffened. They no longer beamed at each other and the remainder of the program was phoned in. They held the final pose, an embrace, for only a moment. They broke apart. Usually, Belle skated to him, leaving Gaston to wander around the rink aimlessly. Today, she remained by her partner's side.  

“His grip was fine,” she informed Gold. “You’ve been picking on him all day!”

“Miss French, when I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.” he ground out harshly. She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head, looking at him queerly. He wasn’t going to give her a chance to respond. “You both have physical therapy in ten.” He turned his back on them and didn’t turn around again until the sound of their skates disappeared.   

He searched for something to take his frustration out on. Surrounded by ice and wood, his eyes alighted on a steel folding chair. He kicked and stomped it hard enough to leave dents but it didn’t even begin to reduce his bitterness. Staring at the old, mangled chair reminded him of himself and served to irritate him further.

He pushed out of the rink and stalked through the back halls.   

His aim had been to cool Belle’s pursuance of him by introducing her to the idea of a more suitable alternative. Now, it had been done a little too neatly. Gold refused to be chaperone to a doomed love affair. When the relationship inevitably collapsed, his team would have to disband. They’ll be forced to find Belle another partner. It was too late in the season for such melodrama. Professionally, he couldn’t stand by and let this happen. He’ll have to have some words with the good doctor.

Pushing through random doors, he eventually stumbled into the deserted gym. A dead end. He turned to go, but caught the reflection of the equipment in the mirrors that lined the walls. The machines filling the room were old friends who no longer looked recognizable. Again, he felt his muscles tense at the sight of the gear that used to rule his life. Gold leaned out of the doorway and glanced down the hall. Everyone was on the other side of the complex in the training room. He braved several more steps into the gym. The rack of free weights called to him. They promised to be the balm to his resentment. The leg curl machine pledged to him an exhaustion that resulted in a dreamless sleep. They were as good a place to begin as any.

A plan formulated in his mind. He’d workout, so he wouldn’t punch the next the person he met. Then he’d go talk to that quack doctor.

***

Gold didn’t bother with knocking. He entered the office and immediately alighted on Dr. Hopper. He ignored the patient sitting on the couch.   
  
“Are you a doctor or a dating service?” he demanded.   
  
Archie took in Gold’s appearance. His white dress shirt was wrinkled and damp with perspiration. He’d come straight from the gym. Lifting heavy objects made his body scream in protest, but didn't make a dent in his anger. Just weak enough to not be able to take a swing at anyone. The therapist correctly guessed that Gold wouldn’t go away if he asked nicely.

Archie gave the woman across from him a forgiving look. “Would you mind waiting out in the hall for just a moment?”

The woman, eager to escape the mental patient who had burst into the office, scurried out the door.

Gold continued his diatribe as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I hired you to nudge them a little closer, not have sex on the ice!” He thought back to how effortlessly Belle arched her back in the death spiral. There was something evocative about it that wasn’t there before.    
  
Archie gave him a patronizing smile. “Mr. Gold, you’re obviously very agitated, would you like to sit down?”

Gold glared at the couch. Moving in the gym had felt good. If he kept moving, his thoughts wouldn’t have enough time to catch up with him. When he eventually sat it was on the very edge of the sofa.

“This is about Belle and Gaston,” Archie prompted.

“I send them to you one time,” he hissed, “and now they’re sleeping together!” His voice rose at the end.   

Archie reclined in his chair, a stark contrast to Gold’s bouncing leg. “What makes you think that?” he asked.

Gold leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, brow knit. He suspected Archie’s question was more than just the normal evasion of a therapist. “What do you know?” he asked darkly.

Archie sat up, “I cannot further expound under doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“So you do know something,” he pressed.  

Archie ignored him. “Why does the idea of Belle and Gaston…” he searched for a more benign euphemism, “being in a relationship, distress you?”

Gold’s jaw ticked.

“Is it the idea of Belle being in a relationship with Gaston,” the therapist probed gently, “...or anyone?”

Gold’s eyes narrowed. “What are you implying?” he growled.

Archie hesitated, assessing Gold’s likeliness to snap. But he pushed on, looking Gold square in the eyes. “I think you’re wrestling with your attraction to Belle.”  

It was so bluntly put that Gold didn’t immediately deny it. He knew he should rail against the doctor’s suggestion. But hearing his conflict summed up so neatly caused all the fight go out of him. His shoulders sagged. Gold hung his head.   
  
“She’s young,” he muttered to the floor.     
  
“Is that your only objection?” Archie asked evenly.   
  
Wasn’t that wasn’t enough? Archie's pointed questions and meaningful silences ferreted the rest out of him. “She doesn’t know how badly this could go and I don’t want to be the one to teach her that,” he said. “Skating broke me. I don’t want to be the one to break her.”   
  
Archie gave him a pitying look that was borderline offensive. “You can’t live in fear because of something that hasn’t happened yet.”   
  
Gold leveled his gaze at him. “Are you telling me to have a mid-life crisis affair with my twenty-one year old skater?”

Archie held up his hands. “I’m just saying that, after having talked to Belle, I believe she’s a capable adult. She’s twenty-one, not seventeen. She’s held a high-pressure job since she was eight and is dealing with her mother’s sickness. Despite this, she’s conducted herself admirably.” He sat back in his seat again. “I think you’d be surprised what Belle can handle.”   

 


End file.
